| Tiger beetles, crickets, velvet ants, all know the useful friction of part on part, how rub of wing to leg, plectrum to file, marks territories, summons mates. How a lip rasped over finely tined ridges can play sweet as a needle on vinyl. But sometimes a lone body is insufficient. So the sapsucker drums chimney flashing for our amped-up morning reveille. Or, later, home again, the wind’s papery come hither through the locust leaves. The roof arcing its tin back to meet the rain. The bed’s soft creak as I roll to my side. What sounds will your body make against mine? Copyright © 2015 by Jessica Jacobs. Used with permission of the author. |
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